


Wooing Martin

by Pink_Dalek



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Ensemble Piece, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:59:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_Dalek/pseuds/Pink_Dalek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt on the CP Fic Meme. Martin has a chance at a paid job at another airline. What will the MJN gang do to get him to stay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wooing Martin

**Author's Note:**

> This is post-St. Petersburg and written before the fourth season. 
> 
> Previously published on the CP meme and my Dreamwidth page. Now I'm wading into the shallow end of the larger fandom pool.

Douglas poked his head into Carolyn’s tiny office at one end of the portacabin. “Hey chief!”

“Go away, Douglas. I’m not in the mood.”

Her first officer persisted. “Hey chief, I could be wrong, but I think Martin’s got a paying pilot’s job lined up.” Carolyn’s head popped up from her paperwork. “This makes me feel concerned what we’ll end up getting stuck with to replace him.”

“How do you think you know this?”

“I looked over his shoulder when he brought that antique laptop of his with him yesterday. I wondered why he was using it to surf the internet instead of the office computer, and figured it was something he didn’t want us to know about.” Douglas shrugged. “My first thought was porn, and I was morbidly curious about what floats our captain’s boat. Imagine my surprise when he was looking at flats in Luton and gently-used subcompacts. That suggests he’s planning to move there and will no longer need his man with a van job. I checked last night, and several of the passenger and cargo lines with a presence in Luton are hiring FOs.”

“He’s probably counting his chickens before they hatch.”

“Carolyn, this is Martin we’re talking about. He doesn’t count his chickens until they’re fully grown, and even then he hedges his bets.”

“Well, if he’s willing to desert us, good riddance,” Carolyn said sourly.

“Put your pride aside for a moment. Martin apparently has, if he’s willing to apply for first officer positions. He’s given you a free ride for three years now. Do you really think you could find someone else willing to work for free? You’re going to have to pay someone, Carolyn. If it’s not him, it’ll be some clot fresh out of flight school who’s just like Martin was when he started. I don’t feel like bringing another half-fledged pilot along; I’ve got this one mostly trained just the way I like him. Better the devil you know and all that.“ 

“Where is he now?”

“I sent him to the terminal for drinkable coffee, and to get him out of earshot.”

Carolyn rubbed her forehead fretfully. “We’re still so close to the edge of going under—“

“But after Gordon so generously replaced Gerti’s engine and did all those other little fixes on her, I know you’re spending a fraction of what you used to on repairs and maintenance. Martin would be thrilled with enough money to get him out of that wretched attic and sideline the van business. A bed-sit and a Corsa would be a step up for him. Offer him a salary, Carolyn. I have no desire to face the terrors of what awaits us if you don’t.” The portacabin door opened and Douglas turned around. “Ah, the nectar of the gods. Thank you, Martin.” Martin handed over a cup. “Did you manage to talk to that barista who makes you blush?”

“Yes,” was the irritable reply. “I’m not as hopeless as you seem to think.”

“Beyond placing your order?” Silence. “Martin, you are precisely as hopeless as I think.”

“Martin Crieff, are you planning on deserting us for an airline in Luton?” Carolyn asked tartly.

The spit-take and sputter was priceless, Douglas thought. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Excellent questions, Sir.”

“Shut up, Douglas.” Carolyn snapped. “Haven’t you got paperwork to do?”

“Sir, in his magnificent efficiency and magnanimous nature, has done both his paperwork and mine this morning.”

“And then you sent him for coffee. You’ve made him your own personal secretary, haven’t you?”

“I am still here, you know.”

“Yes, Martin. And you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Which you really have no right to ask, seeing as you refuse to pay me. Carolyn, I’m not some kid fresh from my CPLs anymore. I’ve got thousands of hours’ flight experience, done hundreds of takeoffs and landings—“

“Each an exemplar of pulse-pounding excitement. My heart was in my throat every time,” Douglas snarked.

“And I landed Gerti on one engine after a goose strike a few months ago. That all counts for something. I have two offers right now, and I’m considering them both carefully.” Martin turned away. “If you need me, I’ll be doing the walk around and checking on Arthur. He’s trying to disinfect the microwave, and I don’t trust him not to hurt himself with Lysol spray.” The portacabin door didn’t quite slam shut behind him, but it was a near thing.

“And there you have it,” Douglas said into the ringing silence.

“How can I convince him to stay? I certainly can’t afford to pay him what they would.” Carolyn turned to her computer, opening up spreadsheets and calculating.

A half-hour later she crossed the portacabin to where Douglas was sitting, feet up on his desk, re-reading a LeCarre novel. “I can almost afford to pay him what I pay you.”

“Almost?”

“Well, half right now. More if things keep going as well as they are.”

“It’s a living wage, at least. He could have a flat and a proper car. Make him an offer.”

Douglas didn’t hear any more until later that day. They’d been in the air awhile, ferrying a group of executives to New York. “Carolyn’s offered to start paying me.”

“Really?”

“Don’t act innocent, of course you know about it. Not as much as she pays you. Not as much as I’ve been offered.”

“It would be dull. Most passenger lines frown on Traveling Lemon and Simon Says. Cargo would be even duller, though. Passenger Derby doesn’t work nearly as well without passengers.”

“Don’t pretend you want me to stay.”

“Oh, but I do. If only because I dread what Carolyn will find if she again sifts the dregs of the pilot pool. At least I know what to expect from Sir.”

An hour later, Martin had lost most of the cheese tray. Three hours later, they checked into yet another ghastly hotel.

As soon as he’d dropped off his overnight bag in his room, Douglas stepped across the hall to Carolyn’s. “He mentioned on the flight that you’ve offered to pay him.”

“And?”

“Your fish isn’t eager to bite. He knows it’s not as much as you pay me, and it’s not as much as your rivals are offering. Dear me, who’d have thought it? A bidding war for Martin. It's like you're all wooing him.”

“I can’t afford to pay him any more than that right now,” Carolyn groused.

“Then you need to find other ways to sweeten the pot.”

“I could offer to gag you on flights so you can’t constantly take the mickey out of him.”

“He knows I only tease because I care.”

“Or I could make you responsible for the paperwork,” Carolyn suggested.

“He knows better than to trust me to do it. You could offer Arthur’s hand in marriage.”

“You know Martin doesn’t play for that team.”

“Arthur in a wig and a dress?”

Carolyn winced. “Absolutely not. I refuse to go through that phase again.”

“You in a wig and a dress. And a heavy veil, come to think of it.”

“Douglas, stop it! You could share the cheese tray like a decent human being.”

“You could give us a cheese tray that’s worth sharing.”

Arthur came in through the hall door they’d left ajar. “Mum, Douglas, what are you talking about?”

“Martin has an offer to work for another airline,” Douglas told him.

“But, he’s our Skipper! Why would he want to leave?”

“Unlike your mother, the others have offered to pay him. He could give up being a man with a van.”

“You mean he doesn’t do that for fun? Or because he’s really nice and likes to help people who need stuff moved?”

“No, Arthur. That’s how he earns a living,” Douglas said drily. “He flies for us because he likes to help people who need a plane flown. Most pilots are paid, as well as doing it for the excitement of flying and the glamour of travel.” He looked pointedly at the water-stain on the ceiling of Carolyn’s hotel room.

“I can’t afford to pay him as much as the other airlines would.”

“You should give him the car, Mum,” Arthur suggested. “You know, the one you bought for the housekeeper to use. Now that we don’t have a housekeeper anymore, the MegaMaids drive their own when they come to clean, and that car stays in the garage. Your car gets to drive all over, but it just sits there. I think it’s lonely,” he mused.

“Why are you renting your car from me when you have an extra car?” Douglas asked him.

“It’s the sort I never managed to learn to drive, where you have to keep wriggling the little stick.”

“What kind is it?” Douglas asked Carolyn.

“A 2005 Fiesta.”

“He might go for it. It’s better than that deathtrap he’s driving now. It’s doing you no good just sitting in a garage. Give him the title, let him take over the tax and the insurance.”

“He could come live with us,” Arthur suggested. “He could have one of the guest rooms. It’d be brilliant!”

“Arthur dear heart, I couldn’t cope with looking after two of you.”

“No, it would still be just one of me. One of me and one of Skip. How about it?”

“No, Arthur.”

“Okay. I just thought it would be like a sleepover every night. With pizza for dinner and pancakes for breakfast.”

“So a salary, the Fiesta—“ Douglas summed up. “Catered meals on flights again—“ 

“That’s your request, not his.”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate it, too. But if you won’t spring for catered meals, how about more generous cheese trays?”

“All right, I’ll do the cheese trays.”

Douglas gave her a shrewd look. “With extras of the good cheeses, not the ones we both leave for Arthur.” Carolyn glared at him, but nodded. “Better hotel rooms.”

“No. This is a stretch as it is, Douglas.”

“Okay, so we’re up to: a salary half of the going rate for a first officer, a used Fiesta, and improved cheese trays. I’m not sure if that’s enough to keep Martin with us against the lure of proper pay, meals untouched by an Arthur, and hotels that aren’t complete dumps.” Douglas sighed. “Fortunately for us, though Martin has many flaws, greed isn’t one of them.”

They were starting to discuss dinner plans when there was a knock on the doorframe and Martin looked through the half-open door. “Is anyone else peckish?”

“Hi Skip! We were just talking about how to keep you—“ Douglas clapped a hand over Arthur’s mouth.

“—from fainting with hunger. How does pizza sound? There’s a place down the block that looks like a Mafia hangout,” he finished smoothly.

Martin stepped into the room. “You’re writing up the advert for a new pilot, aren’t you? Can’t wait to be rid of me.” Arthur, still with Douglas’s hand over his mouth, started shaking his head No and doing his unclear-on-the-concept winking. “Douglas, are you cutting off Arthur’s air? He looks like he’s starting to have some sort of fit.” Douglas was startled enough to let go.

“I was winking, Skip! We’ve been talking about how to get you to—“ Two hands, one Douglas’s and one Carolyn’s, were now clamped over Arthur’s mouth.

“Arthur dear, have you laid out your pyjamas for when we get back from dinner?”

“I think he’s trying to shake his head No,” Martin said cautiously. This made Arthur nod his head Yes. Martin narrowed his eyes, looking almost calculating. “Arthur, yes or no: have they been discussing how to get rid of me?” Arthur shook his head. “To get me to stay?” Nod. “Any sort of pay increase?”

Shake. “Nngaar!”

“What?”

“Nngaar ing geeez!”

“I really have no idea what you’re trying to say.”

Arthur nipped Carolyn’s hand gently, surprising her enough to wriggle his face free. “A car and cheese, Skip! You can have our old car and Mum’s promised more cheese on the cheese trays.”

Martin’s suspicious gaze went to Carolyn. “The good cheese or the disappointing stuff?”

“The good cheese. I insisted,” Douglas told him.

“I’m sure you did.”

“Oh, all right. I wanted to give you my offer in private, in some way approaching professional,” Carolyn said. “The salary I offered you earlier, plus a car I have that’s going unused, and yes, a more generous cheese tray.”

“I put in for catered meals on flights and better hotels,” Douglas added.

“I suggested Douglas do the paperwork, or at least his share of it.”

“Carolyn, I wouldn’t trust him to do the paperwork. I’d rather do it myself and be sure it’s done properly and on time.”

“See? I told you he’d rather do the paperwork.”

“Douglas could cater the meals. Considering what he managed with a decorative koi carp, imagine what he could do with something that’s actually meant to be eaten,” Martin mused.

“There’s an idea,” Carolyn agreed.

“And you mentioned a car. What kind of car?” 

“A 2005 Fiesta,”Carolyn said.

“Is it pink or something?” Martin asked suspiciously.

“Oh, no, Skip,” Arthur told him helpfully. “It’s dark blue, you know that metal-y color that sparkles a little? And grey inside.”

“And it’s not going to deprive you of a car?”

“Not at all.”

“I can’t wriggle the stick and push the littlest pedal at the same time,” Arthur told him.

“Okay. The pay you offered, a decent cheese tray that I don’t have to fight Douglas for, and the car.”

“And better hotel accommodations,” Douglas persisted.

“Douglas, I already told you we can’t afford that.”

“Anything with a single star would be an improvement,” Douglas refused to give up a chance for better hotels.

“You two would have to share a room more often.”

Martin and Douglas looked at each other. “He doesn’t snore,” Douglas admitted.

“He does, but not loudly, and I can always reach across and jiggle his mattress if he really gets going.”

“I do not snore!”

“You do, Douglas.” 

“You do!” Arthur chipped in cheerily. “Remember the last time all three of us had to share a room, and I got to sleep on the foldy bed? You snored. Skip said something about hedgehogs in his sleep and farted. Then you called me a clot when I woke you both up laughing, and Skipper threw a pillow at me.” 

“Can I add never again sharing a room with Arthur to the list?”

“No you may not, Martin. You’re robbing me blind as it is.”

“All right—I’ll stay.” Martin sighed fondly and shook his head. “You're like otters. No matter what you do, all I can say is ‘you guys’. And then let you get away with it.”

“I’ve a friend of a friend in Oslo who can provide you with gifts of haddock, if you so wish, Sir.” 

“And we’ve all got whiskers like otters, too, Skip! Even Mum—“

“Arthur, dear heart, shut up!”


End file.
